APH : Full of Surprises
by AllEvil669
Summary: First CRACKfic I've ever done. Russia x Canada. Canada starts wondering about children, while Russia remains happy without the little ankle-biters, but, does he really have a choice in it?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done actually. This is actually based off a dream I had once apon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyones amusment. Comments are cherished.** I love them more then pie...**

!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong launguage, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

* * *

Matthew loved it when the window was left open from last night. It always gave him a reason to cuddle Ivan more.

Lots of nations stared like they had short circuited when Matthew tried to explain how much Ivan LOVED cuddling. He really was just a big teddy bear if you only gave him a chance. He was like a chocolate with goey cherry stuff on the inside. A hard exterior, but if you just grew a pair and ate it, you'd realize it was really sweet and definitly worth it. Hehehe...Matthew was too tired for this.

He buried his face in Ivan's chest, he arms pulling into his own chest, he fists leaning against Ivan's stomach. Their legs were tangled up together, the blanket facing its unfortunate death in this tangle. Ivan laid the side of his face on top of Matthew's head, his arms wrapping around Matthew's smaller form.

Matthew was very sure coming here and visiting really was one of his best ideas he had ever had...or he was just too tired to remember anything...doesn't matter. Worth it.

0000

The smell of pancakes was soon wafting through Russia's house, the underlying smells of eggs and bacon with it.

Ivan leaned against the doorway into the large kitchen. Within, there was a very happy Canadian. That amused him quite a bit.

First, Matthew, making him breakfast. Most of the time he didn't even have breakfast, unless one of his sisters was over. Natalia, he'd eat just to be polite. Katyusha and Matthew, he couldn't help it, they were great cooks. Second, Matthew wasn't wearing his own clothes. He was wearing Ivan's black slacks that only fit him because of the leather belt tightened around his waist, and a shirt Matthew had borrowed from Alfred, which happened to be a 'nyon cat' tee-shirt.

He looked rediculous.

And it didn't help he was singing.

What he was singing was a mystery to Ivan. It sounded nice though.

"_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight; just a touch of the fire burning so bright. And I don't want to mess this thing up; no, I don't want to push to far. Just a shot in the dark that you just might; be the one I've been waiting for my whole life; so, baby I'm alright; with just a kiss. Good night..."_

He sat there awhile, watching Matthew intently. Wanting to say something, but knew the song would end then. He was so sure he had heard it before, just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Lady Antebellum. Just a kiss. Alfred had it playing before I left and now it's stuck in my head." Matthew grinned at Ivan over his shoulder.

Ivan became crestfallen very quickly. '_He knew I was here the whole time... Well, there goes trying to be stealthy..' _He couldn't help but be slightly angry at this. "I could have figured it out for myself." Ivan added petulantly.

Matthew threw his head back with a laugh like an angels'. "Sure. It's just a song you know. You don't have to get all pissy." He shot back with a playful, yet victorious smirk over his shoulder again, his lavender eyes tying it all together with a sly gleam.

Ivan held back an equally playful pout, squaring his shoulders and standing up straight. "I don't get, what you call, 'pissy'." He emphasized, using his fingers as his own quotation marks. A quirk he exucuted as an obvious imitation of the Canadians' southern brother.

Matthew grabbed two platters with plump and delicious smelling pancakes, turning around to face the much larger Russian. "Woah there, tiger," the almost coo only receiving a rolling of eyes. "Instead of trying to untuck it, why don't you help me set the table," the platters being handed to Ivan firmly.

Ivan raised a finger and opened his mouth, quite offended and ready to retort promptly, but ended up just standed there and gaping like a fish out of water. Matthew chuckled, raised up on his toes and placed a sweet kiss on Ivan's gaping mouth, which swiftly shaped to Matthew's.

It lasted only a moment. Matthew then lowered himself, and looked up at Ivan with huge puppy dog eyes, looking at him from under his eyelashes provacatively. "Please, Ivan..."

Ivan brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes and temple, a groan of frustartion escaping him. "Please ~," Matthew dragged it out slightly.

With a pleading glance at the ceiling and a mouthed 'Why', Ivan took the plates and glared at Matthew, and surprisingly, it came out with a bit of venom in it. "I hate you sometimes," he growled as he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

That beautiful laugh followed him, "I love you too!"

* * *

I'm sorry, it's short, but I'm a little busy with writing my other fanfic 'When in Rome', but I was so intent on getting this out that I just did something short. As I said at the top, if you don't like, don't read, it's that easy. To you people, who are cool with this, I PROMISE **EVERYTHING** I wrote up there. So, expect it. Um, comments are cherished. Thanks a lot!

Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia. I wish, but universe doesn't like me so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done actually. This is actually based off a dream I had once apon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyones amusment. Comments are cherished. I love them more then pie...

!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong launguage, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encourgement are VERY helpful. So, thank you

Bleachedwolfrest~

MVFBattleEevee~

ninaspringfield~

Thanks, guys! Just for you, this one is much longer. I put lots of work into this one, I hope you like it!

* * *

Matthew slid his slender fingers over the cool fabric of his folded shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Most of his clothing was already packed and carefully folded beside him in his recreational duffel bag.

He really didn't want to leave Russia's. He had only been over for almost a week, if that. And he knew if he left all he had to look forward to was work and Alfred being his normal annoying self. He set the shirt on top of a perfectly righted pile of identically folded shirts.

He was taking his sweet time with the hope Russia wouldn't be his normal punctual, anal self. He started to look over his progress. He had succeded in making a mess of himself at breakfast to get laundry started, but Ivan used some really strong cleaners, proving one load did the job. He took his time cleaning dishes, but Ivan insisted it could be done later, forcing Matthew already to be almost done and ready to get out the door whithin their time limit. Russia really was hard to side track...

Ivan walked into the room carrying a overflowing, sky blue, plastic laundry basket, trying his hardest to keep its contents from falling out. "You almost ready to leave, Matvey?"

Matthew gave him a gentle smile in greeting before shrugging saddly. "Not quite yet." Matthew watched Ivan set the basket on the made bed, the clothes spilling everywhere. With a helpful tone and a found excuse, Matthew offered a hand, "Here, I'll help you. We both know I'm better at folding then you."

Ivan quickly struck Mat's hand, forcing the seemingly young man to pull his hand closer to his chest instinctivly. "Нет, я так не думаю. You should be leaving soon" Ivan scolded. "Your brother will worry if you miss your flight. Do not act like I do not know what you are doing."

Matthew pouted slightly, but gave Ivan a guilty smile instead of pleading. "I know. I just wish..." he trailed off, started to consider. He could easily finish packing, drive to the airport and go home to his boring and usually forgotten life, or...

A sly grin took over his face.

He walked over to Ivan's leaning form, the Russian picking through the clothing, trying to find something specific. Mat's fingers slithered their way onto Russia's strong, tense muscled shoulders, the soft fabric of Russia's scarf rubbing pleasantly against Canada's knuckles. Ivan stood straight, glaring at the wall though it was obviously meant for the smaller Canadian. "If you were smart, you would finish packing, Matvey" he threatened irritably.

Matthew knew well that this was going to be a long shot, but to him, it was worth trying. "You need to relax sometimes, you know that?" he purred, massaging hesitantly.

Ivan brought a hand up to his temple, letting out a heavy sigh and groan. "Matvey, would you just pack...пожалуйста."

Matthew couldn't help, but smile victoriously as Ivan's body started to unwind, beginning to melt under his fingertips, the uttered 'please' at the end only showing Matthew how well this was working.

"Eh bien, quand vous lui demandez gentiment..." he murmered in Ivan's ear, sending a supressed shiver doen the larger man's spine.

Matthew stood on the tips of his toes and pecked Ivan on the cheek, slipped away from him, painfully slow, and continued the little bit of packing he had to do.

Ivan was staring at him through his peripheral vision, a weak glare present in it, but most was hidden lust Canada had aroused. Matthew kept the smile tugging at his lips and moved his body provocatively, refusing any glimpse of eye contact.

Ivan swallowed dryly, averting his violet eyes anywhere, but Matthew's lavander orbs and/or pale and fit body. He shoveled all the articles of clothing into the basket again, leaned the basket against the headboard so as to avoid it from falling over, and stood behind Matthew, watching him finally zip the duffel bag closed, his fingers lingering on the metal zipper tab longer then usual. "Come on, Mavey. Let us get moving" he ordered weakly, his accent slipping out more.

Matthew slid on his heel gracefully, gazing at Ivan half-lidded, halfway under his eyelashes. "I'll miss you, Ivan..."

Ivan nodded, his pale jawline doing very little to hide his jaw clenching. "Да, я буду скучать по тебе, как хорошо."

Matthew chuckled as Ivan bit his lip strongly at his accidential usage of his natural tongue. Canada slid into Russia's body, melting into his chest, his lean arms wrapping around his waist, rubbing circles into the small of his back. "You know I'm not fluent in Russian..." Ivan encased Matthew in his arms tightly, in a silent apology as they kissed sweetly.

As they pulled apart Ivan whispered huskily, "You know what it meant..."

"Sure did" Matthew chirped as he cupped Ivan's face forcing them to lock eyes, "It was, 'Hey, Mattie, how about you just stay for a few more days and I don't care what America thinks, lets have sex...'?" he inquired suggestively, with a chesshire cat grin.

Ivan dramatically rolled his eyes, "Matvey-" but was quickly cut off. "Come on, both of us know the world can live a few more days without me working my fingers to the bone" he pleaded like a starved puppy, his purple eyes widening to nurture the look, his grin long forgotten. He changed emotions almost as fast as Alfred, making the resemblance almost impossible to ignore.

They sat there, staring each other down, Ivan considering and Matthew waiting anxiously. Ivan tried hard not to give in, knowing well that Alfred would flip if his brother was gone for longer then planned, but would go murderous if Matthew took longer then planned in Russia's care.

He had a burning hatred for Ivan that never left every fiber of the American's being, but only seemed to grow with every single passing day. It had been hard enough to get any sort of acceptance over the relationship between the 'sneaky, slimey' Russian and the 'innocent' Canadian.

This would be even worse, since Alfred underestimated the abilities of his younger brother, and was so sure that the moment he let his guard down Ivan would rape Matthew forcing him to 'carry his communist, ani-christ, baby', which was the most retarded thing Ivan had ever heard, but knew that stupid or not, Alfred believed it with all his red, white and blue soul and would give anything to stop it from happening.

But, from the wounded look he was recieving from Matthew, he knew there had to be a comprimise. If only Alfred would butt out, accept that Matthew was an adult and let him live and govern his own life, that would make this a lot easier.

"Fine" he finally breathed, igniting a fresh grin on Matthew's soft, pale face, "But, call Amerika, he will track me down like a wild animal if you are here longer and without warning."

Matthew nodded enthusiastically, and pressed his lips to Ivan's lips roughly, pulling away with a deep chuckle that almost held no humour. "I'm sorry."

As Canada walked over to the side table next to the bed to retrieve his phone, Ivan looked after him curiously. "Sorry? For what?"

Matthew's thumbs flew over the phone until its persistant ringing filled the tense silence of the room. He pressed the phone to his ear, and flashed an apologetic smile to Ivan. "I'm sorry that I make you do all this for me. I do make it hard on you. But, you have to admit, I play you like a fiddle" a chesshire grin.

Ivan shrugged, not caring enough to stand up for himself. He knew it was true, and besides, there was no one else there for him to protect an image with.

0000

The sound of gunfire, explosions and generic sounds from first person shooter video games blasted in the large two-story beach house in Virginia. This house was Alfred's favorite, it was mostly only a summer visit, but it was a great one.

He lounged about in his trunks, a fluffy brown beach towel, decorated with a giant bald eagle, was draped across his rapidly drying shoulders, most of the water from his slicked back, sandy blond hair dripping onto the towel also. He had been swimming and splashing about with Mexico all day and now they had retired into the warm, but comfortable beach house to play video games, which Alfred was winning mind you.

His 'victory ridden, gaming' thumbs flew over the smooth plastic of the black controller in his clammy palms, blowing up Julio for the tenth time within the hour. The right side of the screen hazed red, the well-known red-orange type of 'You are dead' fading in and out.

Alfred jumped up abruptly, flipped Julio off, and switched between air-humping and holding his controller like a sword and screaming obnoxiously "I have the power!"

"Come on, estúpido. It's just a game" Mexico growled with a threatening glare Alfred's way, "It doesn't matter enough to make such a scene."

"If it doesn't matter enough, why're you so enojado?!" he stabbed back immaturely.

Julio shot to his feet with the speed of a born killer, "That's it! Ven aquí, hijo de puta!"

Alfred continued laughing like a maniac through it all, as they rolled about, braking things and, in Mexico's case, trying to rip each other apart. Julio held Alfred down, his strong grip tight around the other man's throat, the laughter finally silenced.

"How dare you- you...you stupid American!"

This comment only started the malicious giggling again. Julio's red-brown eyes smoldered like boiling blood in a black and brown cauldren, "¿Qué es tan gracioso?!"

Alfred gasped for breath, only to use it to purchase a death wish. "Usted es americano, también..."

And then a savage beating ensued.

During this 'romp' of sorts, a small, catchy tune arose from the couch cusion, quietly pleading for attention. Alfred's eyes widened as he made out the familiar jingle, only to crinkle his eyes again in pain, a response the the sharp kick to his stomach. Julio stooped and grabbed a fistful of messy, blond hair, pulling Alfred to his knees, kneeling before him. "Had enough, estúpido?" he hissed.

Even through the searing pain all throughout his body, Alfred pulled together a cocky smirk, "What're you talking about, cara polla? I can take this all day, in fact I'd love to."

A sadistic glint in Julio's eye shined abnormally bright, "As you wish-" only to be cut off by a badly hidden plea.

"Wait! I'd love to, but my phone!" With a helpful point towards the couch, Julio shrugged, pulling back his fist for another strong punch, "They can call back.."

"No! No, they can't! It's probably Mattie, you know he never calls more then once..." Alfred delivered his puppy dog eyes, which happened to be just as affective as Matthew's. "Please, Julio~ You're my fave', bro..."

Julio tried his hardest to hide his sympathy with a look of disgust. "Ugh, don't look at me like that, que patético-" but was cut off. "It's almost done ringing!"

Julio growled under his breath, before giving in. He threw Alfred to the side, onto a pile of broken glass he had created, ran to the couch, fished in the old cusions, saved the cell phone from its prison of ripping fabric and pressed the green 'talk' button.

A cheery tone, and indeed the familiar voice of his northern brother answered. "Hey, Al. You busy?"

"This isn't Alfred. The gilipollas is busy being estúpido. It's Julio. Can I help you, hermano favorecida?"

Matthew chuckled at the nickname, this not being the first time he had heard it, "Yeah. Just tell Al I said I'm stayin' in Russia a little longer. I'll be back in about a day. 'Kay?"

Alfred had pulled himself back to his feet and was know snatching at the phone like a petulant child, with less childish strength, "Let me talk to him!"

"Of course, I'll tell him for you. Good bye, Mat."

"Cool. Bye, Julio."

Julio hung up and tossed the phone at Alfred's head, hitting his mark, Al's big pouty eyes. "Could you at least let me talk on the phone without flailing on me?!"

0000

"Julio? Where was Amerika?" Ivan inquired, actually very pleased it wasn't Alfred. Alfred would have thrown a fit, keeping Matthew longer then needed. Thank god Julio didn't care. And happened to be over when they called, America and Mexico were probably fighting to much to worry much about it.

"Mexico was visiting. Thank god too, at worst, Al will send me a whiney text message. No big deal."

Ivan let out a unconciously held breath, "Do not get me wrong, I am very happy you will be staying longer."

Matthew glided over, sliding his arms around Russia's neck, pressing his puckered lips to Ivan's smoothed ones. Ivan wrapped his arms around Matthew's waist, deepening the kiss. Ivan roungly slid his tongue against Matthew's lips, Matthew then capturing Ivan's bottom lip with his teeth. He pulled his lip out a bit, let go and sucked on it a bit.

A few more kisses and they finally sat there in each others arms, content as they were.

"Russia" Ivan's amethyst gaze met Mat's, "I love you..."

Ivan smiled, lifted Matthew up in bridal style, and kissed him surely before plopping him down on the bed.

"Я тоже тебя люблю..."

* * *

Oh my god, sooooooo llllloooooooooonnnnnnngggggg . Naw, this just took a buttload of time, you know between Christmas and family and all that crap. I know this isn't Christmas oriented, but this is my Christmas present to you all. (I'm poor and can't give you anything else...)

Ah, brotherly love. I'm pretty sure all the American brothers love each other dearly and just have weird ways of showing it.

Translations -

Russian : Нет, я так не думаю. = No, I do not think so.

Russian : пожалуйста. = please.

French : Eh bien, quand vous lui demandez gentiment... = Well, when you ask nicely ...

Russian : Да, я буду скучать по тебе, как хорошо. = Yes, I will miss you as well.

Spanish : estúpido = stupid

Spanish : enojado = angry

Spanish : Ven aquí, hijo de puta! = Come here, you son of a bitch!

Spanish : ¿Qué es tan gracioso?! = What is funny?!

Spanish : Usted es americano, también... = You are American, too...

Spanish : cara polla = dick face

Spanish : que patético- = that pathetic

Spanish : gilipollas = asshole

Spanish : hermano favorecida = favored brother

Russian : Я тоже тебя люблю... = I love you too...

Yay, Spanish...!

Disclaimer : I do not own abusive brothers, abused phones or random things made of glass, nor do I own Hetalia.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done actually. This is actually based off a dream I had once upon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyone's amusement and entertainment. Comments are cherished. I love them more then pie...

!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong language MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encouragement are VERY helpful. So, thank you

TheDevilWearsGucci~

Yuki Winggates~

This person gets the gift of this chapter for their awesomeness to leave this stories first reviews. You're this story's first...they grow up so fast...*sniff, sniff*

To Yuki : Thank you so much, I'll try to live up to your expectations. I'm so glad you took so much time to think about the dynamics of the characters, and it's so cool that you're on the edge of your seat to see what happens next. Thank you again.

* * *

Ivan cursed in Matthew's ear, having his chin resting on the mans' pale shoulder. He dug his fingertips into Canada's supple flesh, engulfed in the feeling of the other's contact, the other's hot breath grazing his skin, the other's soft spoken words in French, taking a certain liking to the sound of profanity in that language.

Matthew drew his arms up to settle his elbows on Russia's strong shoulders, needing to feel the other's strength. Mathew threaded his fingers into Ivan's silvery hair. He clutched, trying his hardest to pull hard enough for leverage but soft enough to keep Ivan's hair where it belongs.

Ivan smoothly changed position with Matthew's body, and rested his hot forehead against Matthew's, the smaller's sweat feeling cool and relieving.

Matthew searching for Ivan's mouth began showering him with kisses, his hands clasping behind Ivan's head to deepen the kiss when he finally found the lips he yearned for.

Ivan leaned into the kisses, lamely trying to lock lips with his lover, failing to coordinate his attempt at kissing and his powerful thrusting which sent jolts of pleasure through both of them as they steadily drew closer.

Matthew felt his chest flutter viciously, forgot all about that kiss and buried his face in Russia's neck instead, quieting the sound of a moan slipping passed his raw lips. His hands let go and dangled behind Ivan, Russia's grip on him getting tighter, Matthew practically forcing him to hold him up.

Russia let out a deep breath, that could have easily been mistaken for a growl, and nibbled at Canada's ear, whispering breathily into it, just saying anything that came to mind, knowing well that he wouldn't remember a word of it later. He just needed to say something, it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

Matthew lapped at the now pink flesh of Ivan's chest, savoring that certain sting of salt. Groans and moans echoed throughout the room, well the whole house really.

Canada and Russia felt the same pooling of fire in their stomach, the same curling desire to climax. With one last thrust, they both bucked and clutched each other tight.

"Ivan! Oh mon dieu...that was amazing..." Matthew pulled himself up with the very little strength left in him and planted his lips firmly on Ivan's.

Ivan smiled leaning his forehead against Matthew's, "I'm glad it was good for you too..."

A grin blossomed on Matthew's face and that beautiful laugh filled up the room.

0000

Katyusha rocked back and forth merrily to the music pouring from the radio. She had never heard this song before, but it was catchy as hell and Lord knows if it's catchy she's attempting to sing along.

How bad this attempt is is really all up to her determination she had stored away that day, and how much she wanted to pay attention to the road.

Today, seemed to be her day to get run over.

She narrowly avoided people at almost every turn. And yet, she decided it wasn't bad enough to stop singing. She'd be at Russia's soon anyway. She had faith she'd make it there.

Matvey was to be leaving on an airplane today, and Ivan said she could come over for a drink or two. It was a good while after the plane should have taken off, so it seemed like the right time.

It kind of made her sad that he always wanted to be alone with Matvey, she'd love to hang out with them, since Matvey was like family now. But, it also made her happy. It truly warmed her inside to see her adorable baby brother open up and socialize with people so freely instead of holing himself up in that mansion of a house and refusing to see anyone. It worried her, made her feel sick to her stomach.

She slid onto the driveway leading up to his house, glaring at the place. Bad things, horrible things have occurred here, and every time she came back the memory's start flowing like a torrent of a stream in her mind.

The sting of a hanging tear tugged at the corner of her eye even though rage and frustration were the main emotions present. She parked the car and leaned back in her seat, trying to relax, concentrating on the gentle vibrations from the car's engine.

She took a deep breath, wiped the tear from her eye, and tried her hardest to just keep her cool. It would be a disaster to make a scene once she got in there.

She jerked the keys out with more force then required and slipped out of the car after gathering up her purse.

Her leather cowboy boots, presents from America, crunched on the gravel audibly under her weight. She slid her hand against the cool metal, closing the door.

She took a final breath, and strode up to the door, practicing her smile until it felt beautiful and comfortably lovely gracing her face.

She rapped a tune on the door, a specific tune she always used so Russia would know who it was. Belarus did it also, and Matvey too, having been let in that the girls do that, and deciding that it was a great idea.

She waited expectantly.

And waited.

Only to be answered by silence.

She couldn't help but worry a bit. Ivan would usually call if there was a change of plan. This wasn't like him.

"Брат, это я. Ты дома?" she refrained from letting her concern show in her tone, she wouldn't want to worry him if he just didn't hear her.

Silence.

This was definitely nagging at her now. She rapped on the door again, slower this time. Hers and Natalia's sound an awful lot the same, maybe he thought she was Belarus and wanted her to go away.

Nothing.

She felt her animalistic instincts kick and and she almost reached for her gun. Certain things can worry a woman. But, having quite a bit of sense let over, she stopped herself. He probably stopped at the store or something.

She slid her cell phone out of her purse, clicked to her contacts and called Ivan's cell.

The ringing, well, rang unpleasantly in her ear, but she had dealt with it for plenty of years now. Fortunately, it ended very quickly and only to lead her straight to voice mail. She accepted, Ivan couldn't stand to leave a voice mail unanswered.

"Брат, это я. Вы не ответит на ваши двери, и я был здесь, ждет некоторое время. Пожалуйста, позвоните мне."

She hung up, and waited impatiently Though she was started to consider if she'd be getting an answer. His cell is obviously off, so he doesn't even know there's a voice mail to answer.

'What if he's in trouble? And what are you doing? Just standing here like a useless girl!' her mind screamed at her. Her paranoia having always been one of her flaws, was now going off the roof.

'It's always like this. Just when things seem calm and well and good, bad things strike out just to remind you what you stay on your toes for! Do! Something! Katyusha!'

She couldn't just sit here like this anymore.

She took out her gun, and banged on the door, frantically and in no specific pattern. "Брат!" At the expected answer, she tensed her shoulder, braced herself, and broke down the door with all her might. The door was heavy, but it opened swiftly from the abuse.

0000 - Earlier...

Ivan lay luxuriously next to Matthew, stretching out like an elegant, deadly panther. Matthew curled into his chest when he settled back down, burying his face in Ivan's neck.

Ivan chuckled, "You are like a kitten..."

Matthew chuckled and looked up at Ivan, nuzzling his chin with his nose. "Mew. Purrr..."

Ivan laughed ad pushed away, "Stop that! It was a joke!"

Matthew, having way to much fun with this, continued to purr in the back of his throat, and started pawing at Ivan's chest, kneading his stomach.

They played in such a manner for a while, until they grew tired and just snuggled on the bed, gently kissing now and again.

"I love your hair...," Ivan commented absent mindedly, stroking the golden locks. "They remind me of that American song, with that verse about amber waves of grain..."

Matthew, quite flattered, averted his gaze up at Ivan, gazing into those deep amethysts, though he could tell that the comparison Ivan made was definitely unsatisfactory to the Russian. Most things that reminded Ivan of the relation between Matt and Al bothered him. Matthew, ready to change the subject slid his fingers over Ivan's cheek. "I love your cheek bones, they're more prominent then mine. My face looks fat..."

Russia gave him a look before laughing heartily. "If anyone took the time out of their day to actually meet you, no one would call me a homosexual!"

Matthew, carrying the joke with grace, gasped exaggeratedly. "Well, I never!" he exclaimed, using an almost perfect female British accent.

Ivan drew himself up on one of his elbows, "Well, today, you have."

Matthew laughed, drew himself up and kissed Ivan, "That wasn't very good, Ive."

Ivan looked up at the ceiling with thought, "Well...okay. What about," he got this weird look on his face that was enough to send Matthew into a silly fit of giggling, "Frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn."

Just as Matthew started to spurt into giggles like a laughter fountain, a rapping on the door sounded just enough for them to hear. Ivan looked at Matthew with an apology in his eyes even before he opened his mouth.

Matthew shook his head, and grabbed Ivan's hand. "Don't worry, it's probably nothing important." Ivan skimmed his teeth over his bottom lip in thought, "I don't think I should just leave them waiting out there."

Matthew pouted, badly mind you, giggles slipping past his lips ruining his performance.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "You are like a child. One day I will overcome your pouting and it will rarely fix your problems." He laid a sweet kiss on Matthew's forehead, slipped out of bed and started searching around the room for his boxer briefs.

Matthew continued to attempt pouting, but continued to fail, not truly being able to find enough to be sad about. "Actually, that good of puppy dog eyes would be much harder to ignore on a child. Trust me."

Ivan tugged on his boxers, "I pray to God that those damn eyes are not given to your children."

"I hope they're given your eyes..." Matthew muttered, picking a piece of fuzz out of one of his curls.

"Что?"

BANG BANG BANG!

Matthew, startled, "Well, well. I guess you better get down there. They're gettin' a-"

BANG!

They both heard a tremendous crash downstairs, and immediately reached for the weapon nearest to them. Ivan had a gun and a hand on the doorknob when he heard the yelled, "Брат!" It made him stop, but it didn't sound like Belarus, so that was singled out.

"Katyusha."

Matthew looked over the edge of the bed, having rolled over and started getting dressed. "What?"

"Katyusha. I invited her over once you were gone," he gave Matthew a knowing look, "And we all know how she is prone to exaggeration."

Canada face palmed, before glaring irritably at the much larger male. "Well! What are you doing? Get out there and explain to her what is going on!"

Ivan reached for the knob again, then stared at Matt again. "You are not coming with?" his fear of his sister in a panic showing plainly.

"Nope. Not yet anyway. I'm not going out there in my underwear. Now stop wasting time! We're freaking her out by not showing" he continued buttoning up his over shirt. Reaching for his jeans laid out on the bed.

Ivan gulped, and finally opened, and slipped out the door.

0000

Ukraine stuck her head in the kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, and a sink full of dishes the only thing present in the otherwise clean room. She started walking down the hallway, until she caught noise upstairs. She made out footsteps, trying lamely to hide their obvious approach.

She made it up the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones, making her way toward the noise. Hoping, praying, with all her heart that everything was either alright or she dealt with it in time that things became fine.

"Сестра."

She turned to find Ivan standing behind her. Perfectly fine.

"Ivan!" She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and showering him with kisses. He brought up a limp hand to pat her back as reassurance that he was well. She let out her tears, looking over him with a mothering eye, only know realizing he was in the nude other then a pair of boxer briefs.

She gave him a questioning glance, "What have you been doing?" She inquired, changing her tongue, the explanation already started to dawn on her as she finally started to think straight, beginning to speak the language of the hidden guests.

Ivan apologized readily, explaining openly, having nothing to hide from her, especially now when she deserved it most.

Polite as she was, she never interrupted, no matter how shocked she became.

Canada stalked into the hall, trying his hardest to bring absolutely no attention to himself. Though, it was all for not. Hiding from the eye of a mother is harder then first anticipated.

"Oh, Matvey! You look a mess, are you feeling quite alright?" she asked, offering no option of rejection as she looked over him just as she had done to Ivan.

Matthew chuckled awkwardly, "Thanks for your concern, Kat. But, I'm more worried about you. I'm so sorry we left you waiting, it's all my fault. If I had just-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, дорогой. You both look slender, how about you both go freshen up while I get some soup on the stove," she suggested, with more command to it. She waved them off to the bathroom before a word out of either of them could be said.

* * *

Yay! I have been just waiting for this chapter to tell the truth. I love Ukraine well, what I've made of her. She's just a fantastic sister, and I'd trade her for my sister any day. So, Yuki, I hope you loved it, I'm sorry that it was kind of choppy, but I try. And don't worry, talk of babies only just started. Wait until Katyusha gets in on it! ;)

Translations -

French : Mon dieu = my god

Russian : Брат, это я. Ты дома? = Brother, it's me. Are you there?

Russian : Брат, это я. Вы не ответит на ваши двери, и я был здесь, ждет некоторое время. Пожалуйста, позвоните мне. = Brother, it's me. You didn't answer your door and I was here, waiting for some time. Please call me.

Russian : Брат = Brother

Russian : Сестра. = Sister

Russian : дорогой = darling

There's not a lot of translations, but still plenty to read. I actually was planning on making this one a quick read so as to get it out quickly, but look how well that turned out.

Disclaimer : I do not own an awesome sister(naw I love you sis), a gun, a laughter fountain, and so it is with great sorrow, that I inform you all that I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done. This is actually based off a dream I had once upon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyone's amusement and entertainment. Comments are cherished.  
!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong language, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encouragement are VERY helpful. So, thank you

theshadowrunner~

Kistunefighter12~

Marshycat~

Alice-Italy-Haruhi~

ThatOneGingerKid~ By the way, I love your name.

Thank you all. Please see this chapter as my first summer chapter. Happy summer, everyone!

* * *

Katyusha hummed happily as she stirred the dark red Borsch, the smell soothing and familiar. The sound of running water and light chastising from upstairs made it to her sensitive ears, spreading an amused smile on her pale face.

The long past stress and fear of the earlier commotion having dissolved into Canada ordering Russia to make actual schedules so that everyone knows what's going on, none of the three wanting this to happen again. Katyusha thought the only thing good about it is that she gets to finally spend some time with the both of them.

She had been very close to just begging them for a possible date. Thank God she didn't have to endure the embarrassment of that situation. She had once been great, what had she become?

Thinking about it, she wasn't certain if she was happy she had changed, or if she was too deep in mourning for her loss of connection between her siblings. Their people moved on, but they held tightly to many things that had made them feared in the first place.

On one hand, she was pleased she had changed. Family remains family even if you're different, in some cases, especially if you're different. Your meshed strengths and weaknesses made everyone stronger, physically, mentally, and emotionally. She no longer had to be above or below anyone. She could see people as individuals, not just walking targets, or cattle. She could relish in the complexity of others and made more then allies. She could make friends. The difference was incredible.

Yet, on the other hand, she missed the pleasure of being alongside her siblings in both battle and the bit of politics they did back then. The feeling of victory was so right. They were chained, and yet more free with each other then many could see as possible. They could say or do anything, and there would never be judgement from the listener or witness. They supported one another, and kept true to promises, no matter how terrifying or ridiculous the situation. They felt so sure of themselves, so sure and strong they could overcome any river, any plain, and any mountain. They were more animal then anything, their training just an extension of their instincts. The world was their slave and their master, and they could never ask for anything more then the always natural bond between the three of them and the soil beneath their feet.

Thinking about it brought tears of both happiness and sadness to her blue eyes. She missed it so much it made her heart ache, the feeling of being just so young and just so stupid. Being young can make almost anything magical, and those were some of the most magical moments in her life, simply being both young and stupid with her brother and sister.

She sighed, accidentally thinking out loud. "But those days are gone now. Eventually, you just grow up..."

0000

"Ivan! For the love of Christ, have you never washed someone's hair?!," Matthew smacked Ivan's hand away from his scalp, slipping his own slender fingers in place.

Ivan rolled his eyes, "You are the one who asked me to..."

Matthew laughs as he dips his head under the shower-head, the creamy foam sliding down his back and shoulders. "That was before I knew you sucked. Haven't you ever bathed a child before?"

Ivan raises his eyebrows, the hair very thick, just so pale it blends in nicely with his snow white skin. "Why would I have bathed anyone other then myself?"

Matthew eyes him suspiciously, "You're saying you _never _had to bathe someone else? Seriously?"

Ivan nods, impatient with the line of questioning. "I am not lying, Matvey. I may have seen it done, but I have never done so myself." Canada stared in disbelief as the warm water washed away the final evidence of the shampoo. "I can't believe that. How could you live so long...?," though he never finished the thought as he moved out of Russia's way, the larger male working the same rich foam into his own hair.

They finished their shower in silence, Canada pondering just what all it was the Russian had done in his long life. Russia thinking on his past in much the same fashion as his elder sister downstairs.

Both of them slipped into clean clothes, straight out of the load of laundry Ivan had done earlier, the clothes relatively warm and soft.

Finally, Matthew spoke, sick of the silence, "I'm sorry for yelling at you for the whole thing with your sister. And you sucking at washing people's hair. I can still barely belief that..."

Ivan's right eyebrow gradually rose from his brow, his actions slowing also. Finally he glanced at Matthew over his shoulder, "What are you talking about, Matvey?"

Canada pulled a soft white t-shirt over his head, ruffling his golden curls. "You were being really quiet, I thought it might be because you thought I was angry with you...," Matthew shifts uncomfortably under Russia's gaze. "...You weren't, were you?"

Russia shakes his head, "Нет. Определенно нет." Russia straightened, setting the shirt he held down on his bed, "I was just thinking, Matvey. That is all. I actually thought your yelling was," he considered his words as though he was trying to find the perfect one. An almost cocky smile spread across his face, "Hilarious. It was quite hilarious."

Matthew stood shocked a moment, then glared playfully. "Oh, thanks, Ivan. That was great for my self esteem," he then shoved Russia and started to leave the room in a huff.

Ivan threw back his head and laughed. "See. Hilarious. You are very funny to irritate, Matvey."

Canada chuckled darkly, "You know what else would be funny? If I shoved a moose antler up your ass. Now hurry up."

0000

"Hurry up, мальчиков! It is getting cold!," Ukraine called from the dining room, setting the table.

Soon afterward, a fresh and clean Canadian fled down the stairs, skipping every third one. Right behind him was the much larger Russian yelling, "I would like to see you get close enough to try!"

"Matvey! Wha-!," but before she could finish Matthew ducked behind her, crouching next to her legs. "Hide me," he whispered fervently. Though she didn't have a chance to think twice before Ivan barreled in and scooped her up by the waist. She squeaked with surprise, as Matthew scurried under the table.

Ivan grinned at her and then yelled, "I have your shield! Come out and surrender!"

Katyusha's cheeks had gone pink from the excitement, surprised to see her brother engaging in such an activity, but very much pleased too. "Shield?!" She grabbed her brothers arm and twisted, just so his grip would loosen. "I am no ones shield!," she then wriggled free, dodged behind her little brother and grabbed the bread knife she'd left on the table. She wasn't planning on pointing it at someone, but it was always good to look intimidating.

"You'll never take me alive, commie!," Matthew yelled from under the table, trying to sound as much like Alfred as possible. Russia slipped around to where he heard the voice, "Learn your history, American," he then grabbed the back of Canada's shirt and pulled him out, "I ceased being communist in 1991."

"Don't you know Al never pays attention to anything, but pro boxing?," Matthew said, as Ivan pulled him to his feet.

Ivan smiled and laughed, "Either you did not put up a large fight, or I need to train you."

Matthew rolled his eyes and shoved Ivan playfully, "I just didn't want to ruin the lovely lunch your sister so graciously laid out for us."

Katyusha laughed, "Of course. The lunch that could have easily been dumped out by your obnoxious rough housing," she smiled all the while. Then she waved the bread knife in nonchalant warning. "Now sit down and eat."

* * *

I know it's not very eventful, but at least I finally got it out there. I hope you enjoyed the present I made for you, and I hope you all have a good summer.

I plan on writing the next chapter very soon.

Translations -

Нет. Определенно нет = No. Definitely not.

Мальчиков = Boys

Disclaimer – I don't own Hetalia.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done. This is actually based off a dream I had once upon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyone's amusement and entertainment. Comments are cherished.

!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong language, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encouragement are VERY helpful. So, thank you

AiHimaruyaBraginski~ I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for putting my story in your favorites, **me **in your favorite authors list, **and **commenting. Thank you so much. You got your point across very well, no need to worry about your English. I never realized I had a "writing style" other then three-year-old high on sugar. Thank you for telling me, and I will happily continue.

And once again, Yuki Winggates~! I know I've already done a section on you before, but watch! As I do so **again**! Fight the man! Fuck the police! Thank you again for commenting, it's always nice to read your thoughts on how everything is progressing. I completely agree, Ivan would be a great daddy!

Thank you both. This chapter is for you.

* * *

The day had winded down, the night having settled over Ivan's house like a dark blanket. Ukraine had stayed so long, neither her nor her brother, nor Matthew for that matter, saw the need for her to leave. She sat curled up on one of Ivan's recliners, her light blue, silky night-gown pooled around her supple legs. She absently ran her manicured nails over the dark green fabric of the arm-rest, accidentally pulling loose threads.

Her night-gown was almost the same color as her eyes, making them pop out even more then they already do. Her eyes looked like blue mirrors, reflecting what she saw on the TV, the images flickering quickly as cartoons went about they're normal shenanigans of blowing things up, catapulting each other this way and that, and much more.

And even though Katyusha had already seen it all a thousand times, cartoons never grow old. Cartoons are like the futuristic versions of fairy tales. They tell you the same old things over and over, but old and young alike continue to come to listen over and over again. Katyusha smiled, most things never truly changed, they just took a new form and new name.

She leaned her head against the cushions, her eyelids growing heavy. '_I might just sleep out here tonight..._,' Katyusha thinks.

0000

Matthew slipped into his pajama pants, the fuzzy fabric creating a warm environment, shielding him from the cold of the Russian night. "I don't know how you do it, Ivan. And it's weird, too, because I can stand the cold in my country, and yet not the cold here." Ivan shrugged his bare shoulders, only wearing his boxers. "Might just be one of the mysteries of being us."

Matthew slipped into the bed, snuggling into the covers, shivering slightly. Ivan chuckled and wrapped his arms around Mattew's thin frame. "Is is really that cold, Matvey?"

Matthew chuckled almost devilishly, "Actually cold, or just being pathetic for attention? You decide!"

Russia chuckled a deep rumbling laugh, hugging Canada closer to his chest. "I will take either." Matthew wriggled his arms free of his soft prison, reaching up hands to cup Ivan's face, locking amethyst with lavender. "Thank you for letting me stay. You've been a wonderful host."

Ivan's smile was just a gentle lifting of his lips, most of his expression found in his eyes. "You are very welcome, Matvey. I am thankful for the company."

Matthew smiled widely, and kissed Ivan strongly. The kiss was passionate, but short as Russia pulled away and shifted, laying on his back, and lacing his hands behind his head. Canada simply moved closer, using Russia's massive chest as a pillow.

There was was long period of comfortable silence, filled only by their calm heartbeats and their steady breathing. Canada trailed images along Russia's chest, pushing just hard enough to leave little white lines in his tracks.

Ivan considered falling asleep, the events of the day being enough for him. But, suddenly Matthew spoke. "Do you ever want kids?"

Ivan stiffened, "Что?"

Matthew repeated calmly. "Do you ever think you would want children?"

"Нет. Never."

Matthew lifted his head to look Ivan in the eye again. Canada looked crestfallen."Why not?"

"Honestly, Matvey?" Matthew nodded, his expression serious. Ivan sighed, not certain how to explain this to Canada in a way that would make sense to him and keep him from arguing the point further. He found himself drawing an odd blank, it being very unusual for him to not make his way out of things. Finally, he just settled with what he always did. "Can we just drop it, Canada?"

Matthew almost flinched at the usage of his nation name. Ivan never did that, unless he was making walls. And Matthew's arms were still tired from breaking them all down.

Ivan had been awful when they first met. He rarely spoke, and when he did they were short and indirect, or they were insults. It had been hard for Canada to weasel his way into Russia's life, the larger male used to living alone or with his sisters. Not to mention his younger sister Belarus. She was always by his side and would hardly let anyone too close to him, much less make an actual relationship.

Once he had gotten through to him, it was like finding the end of the rainbow. Ivan had turned out to be a kind and enjoyable person. Of course, he wasn't perfect, but who is? And it only made his good things even better. At first, they were fairly good friends, and even started doing business together. But, as their companionship grew, they started to grow closer.

When they had figured out they were more then friends, they pretty much turned into friends with benefits. But, that quickly turned into even more. Russia had had a hard time dealing with it, and had practically stopped friendly communication. Matthew had spent a whole year trying to make a connection with him again, but around Valentine's Day, he had finally given up. But, fortunately, Russia had come back and decided he could give it a try. They had been going strong ever since.

Matthew didnt want to watch Ivan push him away like that again, not when things were going so well.

"Come on, Ivan. You can tell me," Canada tried to get eye contact again, but Russia refused to lock eyes with his partner.

Canada pushed himself up so he was on his knees beside Russia. "What if I was pregnant?"

Ivan was forced to look at Matthew then, "Что? You are being ridiculous, Matvey. You are a man."

Matthew tried to conceal his sigh of relief that Ivan had at least looked at him and answered. "So? This is a hypothetical situation. Just bear with me."

Ivan propped himself up on his elbows, furrowing his brow. "I do not feel comfortable with doing a, what you call, 'hypothetical situation'." Canada pushed his hand quotation marks down, dismissing the weak attempt at making a joke. "Please, Ivan? This is important to me."

"Почему?!," Russia's voice rose in irritation. "Why does it matter at all?!"

Canada took a deep breath to keep his voice from sounding like a mouse in comparison to Russia. "Because, I barely know anything about you, Ivan," Canada stared him down, making sure Russia kept eye contact the whole time. "Take earlier today for instance. I had not even known you haven't bathed a child before-"

"But, it does not matter, Matvey!," Ivan interjected.

"-nor that you had not cared in the slightest of my earlier fit of chastising," Matthew continued, his tone getting louder and more angry. "This _is _important, Ivan! How can we be in a relationship if we don't know anything about each other?!"

Ivan pressed his lips together to make a grim line. "We have done fine so far, Canada. I do not want to talk about this anymore."

Matthew threw his arms up in the air, "Oh! Is that so, _Russia_! Well, you know what?! I _do_ want to talk about it, and we _will_! Don't try to dismiss this as nothing!"

Russia glared fiercely at Canada, "You want to know why I do not want children, Canada?!"

"Yes, yes I do!"

"I do not want to ruin some one else's life!"

Matthew's shoulders slumped as he stared at Ivan, his expression pure shock, his purple eyes as large as saucers. Ivan sat there next to him, his expression holding back what looked to Matthew like pain and fear. There was only silence as both of them took in the situation.

Ivan broke the silence, is voice strong and sure, unlike the expressions trying to break through his outside exterior. "See? Now you know. Now go to sleep, Matvey," and without another word, he rolled over and faced the other way.

Matthew sat awhile, a small knot developing in his chest like it always did when they fought. But, it was different. This time he got what he was looking for. But, that hadn't been wheat he was expecting. But, now that he thought about it, what was he expecting Ivan to say? 'Children are disgusting'? No, certainly not.

Matthew tentatively lay behind him, curling up to his back. He laid his head down on Ivan's shoulder, his golden curls brushing Russia's neck, the locks all soft and silky. "I'm sorry, Ivan... I guess I pushed you pretty hard... I just worry about you..."

Ivan remained silent.

So, Matthew continued. "You wouldn't ruin a child's life... In fact, I think you'd be a wonderful father."

"I am not cut out for it, Matvey..."

Matthew smiled and leaned closer, slithering an arm around Ivan, squeezing the larger male to his chest. "Sure you are. You've just never tried. Everyone's bad at first, it's a job you grow into. Besides, you love work," Canada teased gently, getting Ivan to loosen slightly.

"You know what happened when I tried to make a family... I can not stand that again..."

Matthew had to keep himself from taking on Ivan's pained tone when he responded, "The USSR wasn't much of a family, Ivan..." Russia stiffened again. "But, that's okay. I understand why you did it, and no one's judging," he quickly added.

Russia snorted, "Your kin is judging."

"Fuck Alfred. I love my brother, but he needs to learn when to shut up once in a while." Both Matthew and Ivan smiled. "_I'm _not judging, _your sisters _aren't judging. Who cares beyond that? They've forgiven you. You wanted a family," Matthew leaned forward and kissed Ivan on the cheek. "And now you can have one."

Ivan couldn't get the grin off his face, as he rolled back over, hugging Matthew tight. "Я люблю тебя."

Matthew kissed Ivan gently, "Je t'aime aussi."

And they made love.

0000

"Bye, Kat! It was nice to see you!," Matthew called as Ukraine's car slipped out of the driveway.

Both Ivan and Matthew watched her drive down the road until they couldn't see the silver flash of light reflecting off her car, then slipped back into the house.

"Ready to go, Matvey?," Russia called from the living room, re-folding the blanket Katyusha had been using, just out of habit.

"Give me a second, and then yeah!," Matthew's voice echoed from upstairs.

Matthew finally came bouncing down the stairs carrying his duffel bag, "Ready."

Ivan nodded, and walked out into the garage. He had grabbed the keys inside that were closest to him and turned out those keys were to his Ducati. The sleek, black bike lay to the side with a cover over it to keep it from collecting dust or dirt. Ivan grinned, "Have you ever ridden on my Ducati, Matvey?"

Matthew's eyes grew wide, he had been expecting them to use one of the cars. "No."

"Then this will be fun."

Ivan slipped the cover off and looked over the bike like it was porcelain. Matthew's eyes almost bugged out as he gawked at the sexy motorcycle. "Wow...," he breathed, considering cat-calling.

"She is beautiful, da?," Ivan gestured with a small flourish.

Matthew nodded, "Definitely. She is."

Ivan stepped over the large machine, both of their immense size looking natural. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stare and drool?," Russia teased.

"Hell yeah, I'm coming!" Matthew hopped on, his long legs straddling the bike just as easily. They both put on helmets and Matthew sat there a while trying to find a comfortable way to hold his duffel bag. Once he had found it, he wrapped his arms around Ivan's broad chest, squeezing tightly to indicate he was ready.

Russia didn't hesitate to go quickly, in fact, he went as quick as he could without attracting attention, zig-zagging through traffic. The feeling was so exhilarating, it made the blood pumping through Canada's veins go hot, his heart pumping as fast as the bike flew down the street.

But, as quickly as they had left, they stopped at the airport. "This is it, Matvey. Time to go."

Matthew somehow pried his arms off the Russian. And stumbled off the bike, his legs already numb from the short trip. Ivan put out his arm to stead his smaller partner. Finally Matthew let go, "Alright, I think I'm going to be fine. Thanks." Canada considered Russia's headgear, decided he wanted to get on the plane as fast a possible and kisses the plastic visor. "I love you, Ivan. Bye."

* * *

I'm done! God damn! Alright, I am sending this one out because all this coming week I'll be gone visiting family in Nevada. So, bye! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you all!

Translate -

Что? = What?

Нет. = No.

Почему?! = Why?!

Я люблю тебя. = I love you.

Je t'aime aussi. = I love you, too.

Disclaimer – I do not own, Hetalia.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, this is a CRACKfic, the first one I've ever done. This is actually based off a dream I had once upon a time ago. So, enjoy, this is for everyone's amusement and entertainment. Comments are cherished.

!Warning! Includes – Sexual themes, strong language, MAGICAL!mpreg, Russia x Canada, France x England, BOY ON BOY !IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! and other WONDERFUL things. You have been warned.

I would now like to thank all the Fanfic'tioners(didn't know what to call you guys, sorry) for their generosity. All little nudges at encouragement are VERY helpful. So, thank you

pseudonymous anchor~ EarlyWriter~ Thank you both for joining the party!

Yuki Winggates~ Thanks, I was really worried that I didn't draw out the fight long enough, but while writing it I reasoned that Ivan would probably not be one of those people who drag an argument out. Not to mention, that argument was prodding at a very sensitive subject for him, so he would want to end it as quickly as possible before he made a scene. Yeah, Mat's a good guy, and he cares a lot about Ivan. I love them, , here's the new chapter.

Thanks to everyone else who helped me get here! ❤

* * *

"We'll be landing in Quebec, in just a half hour." The speakers were new, so the pilot's voice came in clear. Matthew looked out the window, watching the ocean fly by far below the giant metal bird. He used to be terrified of riding in a plane, but after you use them in a war, you get used to them.

He looked back down at his cellphone. He smirked at the fuzzy picture that was set as his background. It was a picture snapped by France, of his and England's faces squished together, right before Arthur promptly punched him in the face. He had never gotten around to changing it. He didn't think he would for quite a while yet. It was hilariously cute. Above the ridiculous picture, in bright blue, pulsating letters was, 6 MISSED CALLS, and, 20 TEXT MESSAGES. All from- you guessed it. The one and only Alfred Jones.

Matthew rubbed his temple. God, didn't Alfred having a fucking life? He considered texting back, but decided against it. He'd just deal with Alfred in person later.

After a brief moment of silence, the woman next to him yawned and scooted closer. "So...got family in Canada? Friends?"

He glanced at her, meeting with a set of rich chocolate brown eyes. Which widened to the size of dinner plates almost immediately. "Wow! Your eyes are...," she considered a moment, as though unsure how to explain it.

Matthew just smiled kindly. "Interesting?," he offered.

She blushed in a very shy, school-girl-like fashion. "Well, I was going to say 'beautiful', but I was thinking you're a man and all..." Matthew shrugged, pocketing his cellphone again. "Honestly, I wouldn't have cared."

She grinned, "Well, then sir, I must admit that you have beautiful eyes. I seriously don't get how I didn't notice before. I thought they were blue... How does that even happen?" She leaned a little closer, truly curious.

Matthew shrugged again, "No clue. Coincidence? Luck, maybe? Your guess is as good as mine." She furrowed her brow in thought. "Did either of your parents have...purple eyes?," she asked cautiously, as though worried if she spoke too loudly it would cause the whole plane to erupt into chaos.

"I don't know, I never met my parents. I'm adopted." The same old story he'd been telling for ages. Still served its purpose well. She sat up straighter, "Oh... Oh! I'm so, so sorry! I- I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm really sorry."

Matthew, worried the woman might burst into tears at any moment, reached across the seats and patted her hand. "No, don't worry about it. I don't mind."

"...You sure?"

"Yep. Pretty sure." He flashed her a reassuring smile.

She didn't seem convinced. She just sat there looking down at her scarlet flats like a scolded puppy. Near the front a baby started to cry. The men sitting in front of Matthew groaned and murmured to each other. "Jeez, get a grip on your flea bag, lady..." "Christ, I'm gonna chuck that thing out the emergency exit..." "Why do people become parents if they can't handle it? Retards..." "I know, they're just walking deceases anyway..." Matthew rolled his eyes. '_Oh, shut up... I bet you were even worse of an infant then that one..._,' he thought irritatedly.

He turned back to the woman, "So." She looked up. "You asked if I have family up here. I don't. My adoptive parents come to visit often, and so do my step-brothers, but none of them actually live in Canada with me. How about you? What draws you to _beau Québec_?"

She blinked in surprise at his accent, but answered without question. "My sister moved up here a year ago. I thought it was about time I got off my lazy butt and said hi."

He smiled again. It was always nice when people moved around. See and do more. "How long are you planning on staying? It's a great country. Plenty to do, lots to see." What? You can't tell me it's not nice to show off sometimes. Gotta keep the self esteem up.

She shrugged, brushing her black curls off her shoulder, only for them to slide back to their original placement. "I don't know. I have some scheduled plans back at home, but it is really tempting to stay for a month or so. Catch up with my sis' and all..."

Matthew nodded, about to add a thoughtful, wholesome comment, when she suddenly leaned closer and whispered with a devilish grin, "Not to mention, Carol said Canada has **lots** of male strippers!"

Matthew blushed as she burst into almost hysterical laughter. He couldn't help himself. He joined.

'_God, is that all I'm famous for...?_'

0000

"These are the blueprints for Mr. Bogdanov, and the files for Mr. Domnin," an elderly woman snapped at an assistant, shoving both things at the small boy. He was far from being a man. "Don't be tardy. These men have jobs to do, and I won't have them balked by a tiny, snippet of the male standard. Dismissed!" She pointed a perfectly manicured nail at the door, and the boy practically squeaked as he raced out of the room like it was on fire.

Ivan sighed. Work, sweet hell.

The woman turned her gaze on him, her red lips pulled back into a grimace. "Can I help you, sir?," she practically snarled.

He stood, rising to his full towering height. "I believe so. My name is Ivan Braginski." At the simple utterance of his name her eyes loss all ferocity, which was quickly replaced with a fresh batch of fear. He kept the wolfish smirk off his face, but still enjoyed her reaction. "I was told by Mrs. Mesyats that you would lead me to my new office."

One silver strand of hair slipped from her tight bun.

In that instant, she got a grip. She become ramrod straight, pushing her shoulders back like a soldier. She did everything but pledge her loyalty to him and salute. "Yes, of course, Mr. Braginski, sir. Right this way." She rushed by her desk, straightening a pile of papers on it before she passed, and opened a glass door.

It led into a busy work room. It was exactly what you'd expect. Suited workers sitting at identical desks, individuality shown only by their name plaque's. Typing furiously at computers, vigorously printing, stamping, or organizing papers. A woman slipping around the desks pushing along a metal cart holding coffee, tea and various sweeteners, offering to every man or woman she came near.

Ivan breathed deeply. He loved the smell of freshly printed paper, recently starched suits, and coffee that always lingered here. It was nice to be back, no matter how much he did not miss the people one bit.

"Right this way, Mr. Braginski," she said, feigning kindness. She swerved through rows of cubicles, correcting wrongs to try and seem like the control freak, busy body she was expected to be. "Sit up straight!," "Is that work, Mr. Mashir?!," "We have a dead-line people!," "Ever heard of a coaster, Mr. Orlov?," and plenty more, until they reached his new office.

She gestured with flourish, even bowing her head a tad. "And here we are, sir."

Russia nodded in approval. "Thank you, Ms. Nikitin. You are excused." He opened the door and stepped in. It was mostly empty, other then a dark oak desk, set right in the middle of it. It had all the necessary equipment, but was barren otherwise. Just the way he liked it. And just the way about everyone else liked it. If he got pissed he'd just get straight to putting holes in the walls without having to go through furniture first. It was an inevitable fact, might as well make it easier on everyone.

Her voice rang unpleasantly behind him, managing to surprise him. Why didn't she leave when he told her to? "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do for you, Mr. Braginski...?," she inquired timidly, adding on a quick 'sir' as though it would help her situation. Ah, she was sucking up. He should of guessed.

He turned to stare her in the eyes, dark violet to hazel. "You are **excused**, Ms. Nikitin. **Now**." His voice came out low, gravelly, and dangerous. The voice he used for murmured death threats.

She didn't waste a moment on apologizing profusely and fleeing as quickly as she could without making it obvious she was trying not to run for her life. He watched her go, only turning back when the glass door she had led him through closed, her sense keeping her from slamming and locking it.

He sighed again. He already missed Canada. Matthew was a happy change to his life, and always made him feel better. He could hear the honey sweet voice Matthew had spoken in the previous night. "_You wanted a family. And now you can have one..._"

If only.

No matter how comforting those words had been to his haunted conscious, he knew it would never happen. Matthew was- is naïve, but Ivan was the impersonification of a very, **very **old nation. He had seen, heard of, but most of all, **felt** the death of millions. The old and the young, the innocent and the immoral. But, he had also learned the way people think. The way things are. He had been called many things. The salvation of the people, the savior of hope. But, he was just a child. His land was young, and he was scared. The pressure was more then he could take. So, you could say that he allowed his people to be enslaved. Owned, tortured, abused. You could say. And many had. Before he knew it he was despised. A monster, an animal, a mistake. These were only some of the many words that plagued him. And, with time, he began to believe them. He really did become a blood-thirsty monster, and no one saw him any differently.

Then he met Canada. He didn't know if it was Matthew just being a polite fool, if he was being run by hidden lust, or if he had a death wish at the time. But, whatever the reason, Canada set out to become Russia's friend. And finally succeeded. But, he had to admit, after his sisters being his only cival companions, it was a lovely change. He enjoyed Canada's company, and was pretty sure Canada felt the same way. Then it became something else. At first he was just mildly uncomfortable with the change from friendly, to sexual. But, in a way, he enjoyed it, knowing that Matthew trusted him enough to allow him to touch him like that. But, when the words, "I love you, Ivan," left Canada's mouth, he couldn't continue.

When he had been younger, he had longed to hear those exact words from someone, anyone's mouth. They would say so as they unchained him, calling him 'Ivan' beause they had a realtionship that was far more intimate then nation-to-human. It was person-to-person, and they saw him as much more then just a thing.

But when days and nights of his life swam right before his eyes, his childish hope was extinguished. No one was coming for him, no one would save him. Much less come near the 'demon spawn'. And he grew to accept this fact of his life. He grew to distance himself from everyone, but his sisters. And keep his emotions locked away, hidden behind the carefully expressionless face of a cold blooded murderer. Even after this, he gave love and family a try. How did it end? Look up the USSR, and it'll tell you.

Because of this, when those sacred words escaped Matthews soft lips he was far from emotionally capable to handle them. And so he told Canada, the new light in his life, that he never wanted to speak with him again. Thanks to years of training, he said so with a dangerously clear voice, neither his expression nor his tone wavering in the slightest. It was difficult, but he kept a professional relationship with Canada, refusing his attempts at a new try at the whole ordeal. He wouldn't, he couldn't. The thought of anything like that with Canada made him feel scared, afraid of the unknown.

But, one day, Matthew stopped trying. He gave up. Far from accepting this development, but too tired, and love sick to keep trying. Russia had broken him. But, instead of feeling like he had triumphed, Ivan felt crushed. This was his fault. His inability to get a grip, and give change a chance had broken the man he loved.

Yes, he loved Matthew. And he couldn't keep disregarding the truth. So, with some self-applied encouragement, he came to Canada, and more thanks to years of training, asked Matthew to give him a chance with a strong and calm tone and expression.

After all of that, things had gone well, but the talk they had had last night was still on his mind. Could he have a family? Of course not. He wouldn't and no one in their right mind would trust him with something that important. Matthew had read a history book, why didn't he see that?

He sat heavily in the black leather chair, the seat wheezing with the sudden weight. He stared at the door, wishing that he could make that door open and have Matthew's smiling face there to greet him. He could get up and leave, straddle his Ducati and go as fast as was legal, if not faster. God, that would be heaven.

But he couldn't.

'_God damn it all..._'

* * *

There we are. I'm sorry that took so long. I was having trouble deciding how I wanted it to go down, but I have to say, I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys feel the same way. Also, I would like to inform you all that in the sequence with Ivan, everyone was speaking Russian. I just didn't want to do the whole thing in Russian, you know.

The only thing said in a different language was Matthew saying, "..._beau Québec." _Which means, "...beautiful Quebec," in French. Also, I was thinking about putting all foreign languages in italics... Just a stylistic choice really. Tell me what you think.

And a special thank you to larrisita~ for correcting one of my mistakes. Thanks!

Disclaimer – I do not own Hetalia.


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